Keely fell down upon her bed, feeling like one of those girls from a 1950's movie, one who had just arrived home from the best first date of her life, in a dramatic and exhausted motion, a smile on her face.

"I…am…sooo…" She paused to yawn. "Tired."

"Well, we managed to get you home from your picture perfect date before you turned into a pumpkin," Melody told her, getting her things ready for bed.

Keely sighed, laying in her full party outfit on her bed, eyes closed.

"Wait," she said finally. "Isn't it the carriage that turns into a pumpkin?"

There was no response for several seconds. Keely felt her brain just slowly shutting itself down…and then was startled awake, or at least opened her eyes, as she heard a sudden strum of guitar chords.

She looked down to see Melody absently holding her guitar in her lap.

"Whatever," her cousin responded. "It's not like my life's a fairy tale or anything. I wouldn't know." She chuckled a little, as if she couldn't decide whether or not that had been a joke.

She strummed the chords once more, and her eyes were lost in it. Keely just lay there, propped up on her elbow, looking at Melody, whose face was currently obscured by her long, straight hair.

After a moment, Melody glanced up absentmindedly. It was then she noticed Keely staring; Keely hadn't even tried to stop. Maybe her reaction time was too slow being as tired as she was, or maybe she just wasn't as fazed by her cousin's emotions anymore.

"What?" Melody wondered, sure enough.

Keely just shook her head slowly, thoughtfully. But finally, her gaze fell to her bedspread.

"I'm just…it's…" She sounded like she were stumbling over her words, but for some reason, tonight, she wasn't. In her brain, half clouded with the need for sleep, she was just trying to put together exactly what she wanted to say, or so she guessed.

"Are you upset here?" Keely asked Melody, surprising herself almost as soon as she'd said it, despite everything. She just wanted to know. She wanted to help. She was kind of tired of feeling like she couldn't.

Yet it was Melody's face that was the real surprise.

She didn't pause or falter at all. She looked up, her expression flat and free of any regret or sorrow. She tucked some hair behind her ear.

"Well, yeah," she answered simply, shrugging.

Keely just stared back. Melody strummed a few more times, as actual tunes began to form softly.

"Well, yeah"?

Now, she was taken aback. Keely sat up some more, clearing her throat quickly.

"Uh…" She sighed, pushing some hair away from her face. "I guess I figured that much."

Melody stopped playing for a minute, but didn't look up. "Do you blame me?" she asked.

Keely's mouth fell open for a moment, then closed, trying to form words that weren't forming. She felt like a fish.

"I…" She shook her head, grabbing for her teddy bear, barely even realizing she was doing it. "I don't know." Her voice came out smaller than she'd anticipated.

Melody chuckled a bit.

Keely sighed. "Well, what about the party?" she asked finally. "I thought you had fun. I mean, after…well…you had fun." She looked down at her lap, knowing full well not to go there. Of course, she'd probably already gone too far.

Melody nodded slowly, looking up, but not at her cousin.

"It was cool," she answered simply. "Decent music, nice beach…good s'mores." She shrugged. "I just didn't think guys were that pathetic of a specimen until I got to Pickford."

Keely scoffed. "You think all guys are like that?"

Melody nodded. "Well, I haven't met any that weren't so far," she replied. "Well, besides Phil of course. Who's your boyfriend. You got lucky. So, remember that."

Keely didn't know what to say. "I…"

Melody placed her guitar gently back in its case.

Keely sighed. "Yes, I am lucky to have Phil, but—"

"See?" Melody responded. "Just don't worry about it. You're nice, Phil's nice, it just always works out like that. Some people deserve it and others…obviously don't."

As she said this, she stood up, grabbing a bag with some belongings in it. "I'm tired. I'm gonna go get ready for bed." She turned to go, leaving Keely speechless behind her. "Sorry to keep you up."

"Okay, I…" But her words faded into the quiet left behind by her cousin as Melody left Keely's bedroom for the bathroom.

Keely just stared at the doorway.

"I'm the lucky one," she repeated to herself. "The lucky one?"

She looked over at the picture of she and Phil on her nightstand, and the digital clock that told her it was way past midnight.

Looking back down at Melody's bed, she could see the edge of a black notebook from underneath her pillow.

Her eyes fixed on it. Melody always held it away from anyone else. It was something she seemed to write in a lot. It was obviously something she wanted no one else to see.

So why, especially after tonight, was Keely's brain ticking at the sight of it?

She swallowed.

What are you thinking, Keely? You can't.

So she did the only thing she could think of. She kicked the notebook fully underneath Melody's pillow, so she could no longer see it.

Sighing, she sat back on her bed.

She was so tired.

She could faintly hear water running in the bathroom.

The lucky one.

She cushioned her head with a pillow, her wandering thoughts oddly hypnotizing.

It was the last thing she remembered.

Phil sauntered into the kitchen, comfortably donning his pj's, deciding against turning on all the lights. He whistled quietly as he swung open one of the refrigerator doors, bathing half the room in the glow of it.

He grabbed a carton of milk from the shelf quickly, then closed the door. As he did, he nearly spilled the milk down the front of himself.

"Whoa!" he exclaimed as he jumped. When he'd caught his breath, and was able to adjust his eyes a little bit, he found himself face to face with his sister, who stood in her bathrobe, long blonde hair falling around her shoulders, on the other side of the door.

He sighed. "Well, let's see," he began. "I could ask Pim what she's doing downstairs in a completely dark kitchen at 12:30 in the morning. Or, I could get my glass of milk and go back upstairs, and not care." He tapped his finger against his chin, pretending to ponder it. "Hmm. As tempting as it is to go with the latter, somehow I've just gotta know." He eyed her. "What…?" He motioned around the room with his hand.

Pim shrugged. "Oh, just admiring the woodwork," she responded, gesturing to the cabinets. "Wonderful craftsmanship, don't you think?" Even in the dark, he could see her wide blue eyes sparkling.

Phil poured some of the milk into a glass. "Why do you even bother? You never use the word 'craftsmanship' unless you're talking about building a prisoner's camp for all your minions or something."

Pim smiled in agreement, looking totally delighted at the idea.

"So because I'm far from that stupid, you might as well tell me." Phil sipped the milk.

"Well, you know me well enough to know that once I get a punishment, that basically translates directly to 'Do everything you can to figure out a way out of it'," she replied. "Sure, most of the time it doesn't work, but I can't not fight it. It's standard procedure."

Phil shook his head. "First thing in the morning, I'm asking Mom to take us to have blood tests done," he stated. "Once it's officially on paper that we have absolutely none of the same DNA whatsoever, they'll have to believe us."

"Yeah, I always figured I looked more like our parents," Pim shrugged. "Sorry. I'm sure they still love you no matter what."

Phil rolled his eyes. "Yeah, I was looking at that a bit differently, but whatever," he replied. "So, about you being down here by yourself?"

"You have any idea where they would have hidden…them?" Pim whispered the last word, after glancing around as if making sure that nobody was around to hear.

Phil looked around too, and waved his sister in closer. She leaned in, leaving barely a couple inches between their faces.

Phil leaned in closer, secretively.

"No," he whispered.

Pim rolled her eyes.

"Okay, thanks for that," she scoffed. "What good are you?"

Phil put the milk back into the fridge. "Give it up, Pim, you won't find them. So up to bed now, little one," he told her teasingly. "Or Santa Claus won't come."

Pim crossed her arms over her chest, looking at him like he'd started speaking Russian.

"What exactly did you have to drink at that party?" she questioned.

"Oh, a dangerous and exotic drink that people around here like to call fruit punch," he responded, waving his hands around dramatically. He laughed to himself, ruffling Pim's hair furiously as he passed.

"Oww," she muttered, shoving his hand away.

"Ow," he mimicked.

Pim scoffed. "Well, I'm sure it wasn't the punch that would give it away. I think you dropped about seven IQ points just by being there, so don't be surprised if Mom gives you Curtis's rawhide bone in the morning instead of breakfast."

"And you were there for what? Two minutes?" Phil asked.

"Too long," she answered. "And that was just after I finally located you, thanks to Keely's cousin, who's actually got her marbles together. A first for Pickford. Besides me. She should be front page news."

"Yeah, and then you guys both would have had your turn in the spotlight! Pim Diffy for being socially challenged enough to not make it onto the Fashion Zombie sleepover guest list, and Melody for…" He paused. "What expression did you use?"

Trying not to fume over the memory her brother had stirred up over Candida, she just smiled.

"I've got a million of 'em," she replied. "Take your pick."

………..

You know what time it is right now? 2:56 in the morning. I was watching Roseanne, typing a little, checking the Myspace, typing a bunch more and then all the sudden it's almost 3 AM. Holy wow. I feel like I've been on here a really long time. Bedtime, loves.

Yeah, things are getting a little tense now. oooh.

Reviews?